


Whipped Into Shape

by AssassinOfRome



Category: Legally Blonde - Hach/O'Keefe/Benjamin
Genre: (Bc Elle is never going to let him suffer), Angst with a Happy Ending, Chubby Emmett, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Emmett needs a hug, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Weight Issues, Whump, mentions of poverty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2019-08-23 19:00:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16624628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AssassinOfRome/pseuds/AssassinOfRome
Summary: They really weren’t joking about these being skinny fit, he thought as he tried to wriggle the offending article higher over his hips. They budged a little, but any attempts to button them resulted only in breathlessness and a mild stomach ache. Glancing down, he sighed, lying a hand across his middle. It was easier to blame the cut, or the company, or any other excuse rather than look in the mirror and see the truth.He’d gotten chubby. Again.AKA the chubby Emmett fic no-one asked for. Based on the post by @jewishemmettforrest, but with my own spin (hope that's okay)





	1. Chapter 1

It started, as all awful things tend to, with a pair of ill-fitting jeans bought off the internet. 

Unlike Elle, who was the Michelangelo of carving out spots in her hectic work schedule for retail therapy, Emmett had never been big into shopping. Buying clothes had always been more of a chore than a luxury. In the past, he’d allocated one Saturday a year to updating his wardrobe, scouring through every thrift shop in a five-mile radius in order to replace jeans and jackets and pick up shirts at the cheapest possible price. Now he was a little more financially comfortable, shopping meant scrolling through a few websites and buying anything on sale that looked remotely nice. Admittedly, it wasn’t the most sophisticated shopping system but hey, it worked. 

That is, of course, until it didn’t. 

They really weren’t joking about these being skinny fit, he thought as he tried to wriggle the offending article higher over his hips. They budged a little, but any attempts to button them resulted only in breathlessness and a mild stomach ache. Glancing down, he sighed, lying a hand across his middle. It was easier to blame the cut, or the company, or any other excuse rather than look in the mirror and see the truth. 

He’d gotten chubby. Again. 

Pinching at his hip, he wondered how he had let this happen. Laziness, he supposed. Too many mornings curled up with Elle and endless cups of sugary coffee as she painted her nails and showed him cute clips of corgis on Instagram while he half-heartedly attempted to read the news. Too many celebratory pizzas after a successful week or case, accompanied as always with Elle’s favourite rose wine. Too many attempts at his mother’s old recipes, bringing back all the sweet treats of his childhood with double the serving size. 

He shucked the jeans off, scowling all the while. It wasn’t Elle’s fault, or his mother’s. No, he was sole suspect in the case of the lard-ass lawyer, and he didn’t need a jury or judge to tell him who was going down for it. Tugging on a well-worn (and larger) pair of trousers, he finally raised his eyes to spar against his reflection. 

For a moment, he tricked himself into thinking nothing had changed, that he could skate by just a little longer without looking too deeply at his appearance. But he’d always had an eye for detail and all too soon, his gaze settled on the flaws. The slight tug of the lower buttons of his shirt, the wider splay of his thighs, the softness around his jaw. 

It hadn’t always been like this. Sure, in his childhood and teens, he’d faced his fair share of bullying for his weight (and his braces and for the holes in his shoes and clothes) but somewhere between all the studying and shift work he’d needed for getting and keeping his place at Harvard, the majority of his bulk had slipped away. He’d even been able to see his ribs at one point, would spend hours running his fingers over his chest and counting the bones. That had been just before he met Elle, when money was tightest, and no-one apart from his mother would have noticed if he’d shrunk down into nothingness. 

In truth, being skinny hadn’t been great. He’d felt every chill, which was almost a death-sentence in his tiny drafty flat. It was harder to study too, as constant sleepiness seeped through his bones like lead. Hunger pangs were by far the worst, striking him at the worst moments. Once his stomach had growled so loudly in a class that the professor had him removed. He remembered curling up on the floor of his room weeping, with only the emptiness in his belly for company. 

But as awful as it felt, it was still a damn sight better than this. Emmet paused, listening for Elle’s footsteps in the apartment. She wasn’t due home for another fifteen minutes, but she always delighted in getting back early enough to surprise him. Luckily, she hadn’t pulled that particular stunt today, and he’d avoided the shame of unflattering outfits in her presence. 

The thought of confronting Elle in that state caused his traitorous stomach to clench tight. He knew from experience that Elle could never be outwardly cruel – hell, she’d watched the former love of her life propose to another woman in front of her and hadn’t said a word. But fashion had always held a special place in her heart, alongside the law and animal rights, and Emmett didn’t know if she’d be able to hold back if he made a truly atrocious faux pas. And sizing up anymore than he already had was definitely in that territory. 

Sinking down on the bed, he tried to ignore the feeling of his stomach pressing against his waistband. He bet Warner never had that problem. Tight toned Warner, who’d switched law school for modelling, for fuck’s sake. No wonder Elle had been enamoured with him; he could probably bench-press Emmett’s weight and more without so much as breaking a sweat. That was the norm in her social circle, she’d told him once when he’d dared to ask. Tennis clubs and protein shakes and regular features on the front of magazines. Well, he could do that too. Maybe not the magazines bit, but the sport and the shakes. Lose weight. Get ripped. Whatever it took. 

But first, to dispose of the evidence. 

Balling up the (awful, useless, terrible) jeans, he stuffed them back into their plastic envelope and made a mental note to send them back as soon as Elle was out of sight. Yanking open the door to his wardrobe (Elle had an entire room of their apartment dedicated to fashion, so she never came sniffing around his), he flung the envelope behind a few old shoe boxes, and let out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding. It felt good, for just a moment, to have the wretched thing out of his hands. Yet his gaze dribbled down and settled instead on the most beautiful item of clothing he’d ever owned: the suit Elle had bought him for the Wyndam case. He tried to keep it as pristine as possible, barely wearing it outside of special occasions. He ran his fingers lightly over one sleeve and savoured the soft material. It was at least two sizes too small at this point, not that he’d ever admitted that to Elle. 

And yet maybe that worked to his advantage. Emmett had pulled enough all-nighters to know that he needed motivation to stick at tasks, especially momentous ones like this. Slimming down enough to slip into his old suit would do perfectly. And with Elle’s birthday only a few months away, he even had a timeline. Now all he needed was a methodology, and he’d be well on his way.

A few rooms away, the front door opened with a click, and Emmett hear Elle calling his name from the threshold. Letting the wardrobe door fall shut, he shot himself one last glance in the mirror as he made to greet her. He had a consequence too, he realised, as her sunny smile came into view. 

Lose weight or lose Elle. 

He knew which one he was going to choose.


	2. Chapter 2

Losing weight, however, was harder that Emmett had anticipated. 

The first few pounds had been deceptively easy; he’d started walking to work instead of taking the T and by the end of the week, his clothes had already started to feel a little looser. By taking on a few more cases, it was easier to stay out of the office and away from the lure of Janet’s weekly bakes, and the coffee machine that made the creamiest cappuccinos in Boston. He kept a bottle of water on his person at all times, and had eaten more mints in the last month than he had for the rest of his adult life. They seemed to   
help. 

Yet temptation seemed to follow him wherever he roamed. Clients constantly offered him treats – cake usually, from harassed soon-to-be-divorced mums, and expensive alcohol from corrupt bankers trying to butter him up before dumping decades worth of tax fraud allegations at his feet. He’d successfully kept a factory owner out of jail for dubious safety practices (apparently, the faults had been intended, and were well-known to both the owner and his staff, but were less detectable to disrespectful visitors) and had received the largest gift basket of sweets and chocolate he or Elle had ever seen. She’d gone wild for the gobstoppers and gum; he’d feigned a stomach ache and took the remaining candy into work, much to the delight of his co-workers. 

Elle, though his support through many things, was utterly useless in this department. Somehow, she was the worst temptress of all, filling their shared cupboards with all of his favourite snacks when it was her turn to buy groceries, and bringing sugary coffees to his office when he’d texted to say he’d be working late. He swore she’d even switched her shampoo from its normal jasmine, to an apple variant which made his stomach grumble every time they were snuggled up together. Luckily, she didn’t seem to have noticed, or at least hadn’t said anything; he didn’t know what he’d say if she quizzed him, especially if she used her Court Voice. Not that he’d told her about his goal, of course. Every time he’d considered it, his stomach had cramped for real at the thought of her face twisting as she realised each and every flaw he’d noticed himself. 

Still, by the end of the month, Emmett had managed to scrape off half a stone, and let himself relax, just a little. His confidence, however, deflated upon arriving home one night to the sight of Elle curled up on the sofa with their blanket, a glass of wine, and fifty photos of a half-naked Warner. 

“What are those?” Emmett asked, clinging tightly to his briefcase. The world felt like it was swirling around him, and not even Elle’s sweet smile could keep the ground from shaking beneath his feet. 

“Emmett, honey, which do you think looks better – red or green?” She held up two near-identical pictures of Warner, thrusting out his groin in a variety of different board-shorts. He hoped to God that these were photo-shopped; no-one could fairly have that many muscles. 

“What-“ 

“Nuh-uh.” She wagged a finger at him and pushed the photos forward again. He glanced down at them instinctively and tried not to cringe. Warner pouted blankly back. “I want first impressions.” 

“Red I guess but-“ 

“Really?” Elle frowned, and looked back at the pictures, gaze flickering all over the image. If she settled on any particular area, Emmett couldn’t see it. “See I was thinking the green; it brings out his eyes, and has a fun beach vibe without getting too nautical, but I guess the red could match-“ 

“Elle.” Emmett had to shut his eyes for a few seconds to stop the images burning themselves onto his retinas. When he opened them again, Elle was on her feet, hands hovering just above his shoulders, lips pursed with concern. When she touched him, he tensed. “Why are you looking at pictures of Warner?”

Elle was silent for a second, then burst into laughter. 

“He sent them me, silly.” She giggled, wrapping her arms around his waist and pulling him close. Emmett wanted to relax, to breathe in her soft, silky smell and let himself feel at home. His heart, however, hadn’t stopped hammering. “He’s landed a new modelling contract in Milan and wanted me to help him with his first outfit choice. He always dressed better when we were dating.” 

“Have you tried suggesting a nice three-piece suit?” 

“Have you never been to Italy in the summer?” She sniggered, and then stopped abruptly when she felt him flinch. Two pairs of awkward eyes snuck glances at the photos on their wall, at the images of their very non-abroad holidays, of Emmett’s unexotic life. She swallowed, and smiled sheepishly, letting him go. “It’s so hot there that shorts are essential, and if they’re waterproof, all the better. Besides, I am a fashion merchandising major: might as well put those skills to use.” 

“Oh.” A thousand thoughts raced around Emmett’s mind as he stepped out of the embrace and moved towards the kitchen. He wanted to ask more questions, to quiz Elle on what precisely attracted her to those pictures (as if he didn’t know already), to enquire about how best to chisel himself an entirely new torso. Instead, he filled a glass with water, sipping slowly. “Make sure he wears enough sunscreen.” 

“Em, you’re so thoughtful.” She beamed at him and returned to her seat. Yet she must have felt a little residual awkwardness, as by the time he had finished his drink, she’d secreted the photos away. “I saved you some takeout. Make sure to reheat the rice all the way through or you’ll get sick.” 

“Not hungry.” Emmett replied, glancing at himself in the reflection of their chrome refrigerator. How stupid he’d been to be proud of a little bit of weight loss. Instinctively, he ran a hand down his side, sighing at the softness at his hip. Before he could criticise anything else, he noticed Elle peeking out over the back of the sofa, the concern back in her eyes. It was his turn to fake an appeasing smile. “Two tricky divorces and a domestic abuse case tend to stifle the appetite.” 

“I should have gotten pizza.” Elle quipped back, and finally, Emmett felt himself breathe. These were the things he loved about Elle; how she knew exactly what he meant, even in the strangest of circumstances, and how to pull him out of his own head when he was being an ass. Even now, she was watching him, smiling softly as she patted the cushion next to her. “C’mere.” 

Emmett had never been able to say no to Elle, and with only a mock show of disapproval, headed over to the sofa, and flopped against her. Again, her arms wrapped around him tight, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. The last of his worry faded as she ran her fingers through his hair. 

“Y’know, we don’t really see each other much anymore.” She mused after a few minutes of comfortable silence. Emmett had been dozing lightly, and frowned at the change in tone, one eye drifting open. “I know, I know; it’s all part of the job. I just miss you, I guess.” 

“I’m sorry.” Emmett mumbled, swallowing down his guilt. He hadn’t really thought about how his increased workload had been affecting her, at least not from a relationship perspective. Hearing the gentle thump of her heart made it suddenly hard to breathe. That thumping increased as she sat up and shot him a blazing smile.

“We should take a trip!” She announced, already reaching for her phone. Emmett could do little more than blink at her, brain still fogged from his doze. He reached up to rub his eyes, realising for the first time just how tired he felt. Elle was moving in double time, whereas he felt stuck in slow-motion. 

“Where?” He eventually managed to croak out, watching her face light up with joy and from her phone screen. Did she have travel options saved in their automatically? Her fingers flew across the screen, sometimes pausing, sometimes stabbing excitedly. Emmett craned his neck to see a flash of blue beach before she tilted it away again. 

“It’s a surprise!” She smiled, sticking her tongue out playfully as he reached for the phone. Damn her distractingly long arms. Her nails clicked a few more times against the glass before her smile turned triumphant. “Done! Secret trip booked. Whatever you were planning for my birthday weekend, cancel it.” 

“Your birthday?” Suddenly, the air seemed to have seeped out of the room, only letting him gasp out a few words. That was less than two months away – not enough time to fix himself to beach body standard. And there was no way he was letting Elle see him even half-undressed in this state, let alone flaunting as much as Warner. 

“Emmett?” Elle’s voice chimed over his racing thoughts, and her hands were on his shoulders again, rubbing in small circles. “Are you feeling OK? That’s the second time you’ve spaced out this evening.” 

“I’m fine, I’m just-“ He paused, not wanting to dull her mood but feeling his pulse quicken at the thought of telling her the truth. “Are you sure this is what you want? 

“Certain.” She reached up and cupped a hand around his cheek. “What could I want more than to spend time with you? Especially if there’s a beach involved.” 

“So it’s tropical then?” He tried to laugh, then genuinely giggled when Elle nodded, bouncing up and down excitedly. What was he doing, freaking out over spending a wonderful holiday with his favourite person? “You’d best start raking through your wardrobe then. Have you got anything left in there for sunny weather, or have we managed to convert you to Harvard layering as well as referencing?” 

“Have you forgotten who you’re talking to?” She placed her hands on her hips, but couldn’t morph her face into anything more serious than a smirk. “I’m Elle Woods, and I’m ready for all weathers.” She paused, doubt seeping in. “Though I might just take a look at what would be the best combinations; a real Delta Nu knows how to maximise her outfit potential.”

And with that, she was out of his arms and off to their bedroom, stopping to shoot him one smile before slipping away. Yet as soon as she had gone, he felt his eyes draw back to the second most attractive thing in the room; the last photo of Warner that had slipped out of Elle’s hiding place and onto the floor. Looking at it once more, Warner seemed to leer up at him, even his flexing coming across as smug. Emmett glanced down at his stomach, and breathed in as far as he could, trying to push down the despair that emerged when even that couldn’t entirely keep the softness at bay. With a sigh, he reached for his phone, and trembling slightly, entered three words that had no right to be as daunting as they were. 

Local gym membership.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Emmett develops a problem.

Emmett woke just before his alarm the next morning, and scrubbed a weary hand over his face. It was still dark outside, but with three clients to consult and an afternoon’s worth of marking to finish, he didn’t stand a chance of fitting a workout into his routine anywhere else. Such logic didn’t stop him feeling like complete shit though, as he rolled out of bed. Or at least tried to. 

“C'm'back.” Elle mumbled. Her arms had locked around his waist, holding him tight and pining him to the bed. She wasn’t quite awake, eyes screwed shut, and nose wrinkled. Emmett pressed a kiss to her lips, unlatching her hands and kissing those too. She relented and rolled over, snuggling down into her pillow. 

Emmett’s gym kit was a disgrace, he realised as he glanced at his reflection in the fridge door. He’d chosen the biggest t-shirt he could find; a faded orange monstrosity long enough that it basically covered the tiny red shorts he was wearing – the only ones he could find. Still, it somehow managed to look tight, especially on his arms and chest. He almost thought of ripping it off entirely when he heard footsteps from the corridor. 

“Em?” Elle shuffled into the room, bundled up in her fluffy pink dressing gown. Bruiser was at her feet and trotted forward to paw at his trainers. “Wha’s wrong?” 

“Nothing.” Emmett smiled at her, watching as she ran a hand through her already sleep-rumpled hair. He was particularly fond of Morning Elle, before all the polish and precision had been added. Not that he didn’t like that version too, but this one felt special. Felt like home. “Sorry, I woke you.” 

“You got a case?” She yawned and then frowned as she took in his outfit. “Are those running shorts?” 

“Yep.” Short answers: Elle had an ear (and eye) for detail, and the less she knew about this whole weight loss thing, the better. He wasn’t so much hiding it from her, rather… sparing her from the burden of unnecessary facts. Yeah, that sounded about right. No, he wasn’t sweating. 

“Why?” 

“Gym. A few of the guys from work are going and I thought I’d tag along.” 

“Really? The gym?” She glanced at the calendar. “On a Saturday?” 

“Problem?” Emmett realised he’d sounded tetchier than he intended when Elle’s eyes widened. She didn’t question him though, and just shook her head. 

“No, just… I didn’t think it was your sort of thing.” 

“Wanted to try something new.” Emmett shrugged, unable to look at her and instead focused on his shoes; Bruiser was batting at one of the laces. “Besides, it seems like the standard thing in this place, and it can’t hurt to fit in a bit, right? Learn some names, make some friends, get off to a good start.”  
Elle’s face softened, and she stepped forward, smiling softly as she adjusted his collar. Emmett resisted the urge to kiss her, though he did lean down enough that their foreheads touched. 

“You’ll fit in fine, baby.” She lay her head against his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist. Yet the embrace was cut annoyingly short, as she moved away, and handed him his water bottle instead. “You’d best get going. Run a few laps for me and Bruiser, eh?” 

“Always, Elle.” He sighed to himself as he turned to leave, heart heavy as he made the slow descent down the stairs. 

*

Everything ached. 

Though he knew he wasn’t exactly an athlete, Emmett was stunned at how much an hour’s worth of workouts could hurt. Walking back to their apartment had been a nightmare; he could feel the muscles in his legs shuddering as he attempted to climb the stairs. Lifting his arms to unlock the door had been torture too, his shoulders burning any time he attempted to use his hands. He was pretty sure his hair was sore. 

But that all vanished for one beautiful moment when he caught sight of Elle. She was curled up on the sofa, underlining bits of her textbook. Her hair was piled into a messy bun and she was wearing her glasses, squinting down at the page. When she turned, he could see that, out of all her incredibly diverse wardrobe, she’d huddled up in his Harvard hoodie – the first one he’d leant her all those years ago. It was big enough to reach her knees when she stood. 

“There you are!” Elle chirped, and before Emmett could blink, she’d wrapped herself around him, cheek pressed against his chest. He was suddenly very glad he’d showered before coming home. “Good workout?” 

“Uh-“ 

“I always feel much better after a spin class – maybe we could take one together sometime? We could be gym buddies!” She beamed and gave him an extra squeeze before swanning into the kitchen. “Exercises were a staple at Delta Nu; we’d work out together, and then get brunch as a reward. Speaking of-“ She paused and pushed a frankly enormous plate of food towards him, followed by a smaller but still hefty bowl. “Here. You didn’t eat before you left so I figured you’d be starving.” 

“Jeez, Elle – what… what is all this?” 

“Sweet potato rounds with an avocado and poached egg dip, and oatmeal with bananas and almonds.” 

“Are you sure I should be eating all this?” Emmett asked over the very loud protests of his stomach. “Won’t it just… y’know… set me back to square one?” 

“Not at all. You’ve got the most important food groups – proteins, carbs, and fats.” “I know what you’re going to say - “aren’t fats and carbs bad?”” Her impression of him wasn’t half bad, and was enough to make them both snigger. Yet all too soon, Elle was back on her business. “In fact, they’re essential to a healthy fitness regime. Carbs replenish your glycogen stores and fats in the right ratios will promote muscle growth, and help you feel fuller for longer.” 

“You… you really know your stuff, don’t you?” 

“Well, you don’t ace Brooke Wyndam’s Booty-Bootcamp without picking up a few facts about nutrition.” She smirked, and placed her hands on her hips, the model of strength. It only lasted a few seconds, as she pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Well go on, don’t just sit there. Eat up.” 

Emmett paused, and glanced nervously down at his plate. He only intended to have a few polite nibbles, but as soon as he started, it was almost impossible to stop. Every bite was delicious; the dip was seasoned to perfection, and the oatmeal was laced with honey like his mother used to make. Nothing was sweeter than Elle’s smile though, especially when Emmett gave his compliments to the chef. 

“Oh my God, Elle! How long have you been able to cook like this?” 

“I didn’t learn it overnight, silly. Besides, I would have whipped up something quicker if you’d had more in your cupboards than ramen noodles and coffee.” She flicked his nose lightly, and set another cup in front of him, this time full of what looked like hot apple juice. “Green tea, with ginger and turmeric. It’ll wake you right up.” 

Emmett lifted the mug to his lips but before he could take a sip, Elle pushed it down again, and pressed a kiss to his lips. 

“Where’d that come from?” Emmett laughed nervously, ducking his head so that his fringe fell into his eyes. Elle swept it away, cupping a hand around his cheek. 

“Just wanted you to know. That I love you. Like a lot.” 

“I love you too, Elle. Like a whole lot.” 

*

And that’s how the days passed. Emmett went to the gym most mornings, Elle yawning encouragement at him as he left. She was always there to greet him when he returned, with compliments and kisses. On weekends, she’d come with him, and they’d spend most of their workout time giggling or taking selfies at increasingly ridiculous angels. They’d arrive home, still sniggering from some dumb joke made on the walk back, and there would be more kisses. Sometimes they spent the rest of the morning in bed together, breathless for an entirely different reason. Emmett found himself looking forward to that time together, a brief repose from work to be with the person he loved most. It almost felt right. 

The scale, however, didn’t seem to agree. 

First came the plateau, stubborn numbers leering up at him every morning, refusing to shift. He’d tried to slip in a few more workouts when his progression stagnated, but it seemed to have little effect. In fact, the opposite seemed to occur, as he watched with horror as the numbers began to creep up again. That sight alone was enough to put him off breakfast, and he’d started turning down Elle’s offerings as politely as he could, rushing off to work before she could question him. On the few occasions where escape was impossible, he claimed a stomach ache, and she would run a gentle hand down his arm, kissing his cheek as he sipped at a glass of water. 

Yet, a few weeks into his endeavour, he realised he’d used that excuse too many times when, instead of letting him slip into the kitchen, Elle reached out and lay her hand on his.  
“Is everything OK?” She asked, head cocked to the side in curiosity. Usually she saved that gesture for the most complex cases, when she needed every inch of her remarkable brain to find the solution. But instead, she was just watching him, gentle gaze concerned. 

He didn’t want to lie to her, he realised. Sure, in their careers, they’d both ducked and weaved around the truth; they never would have passed Callahan’s classes without some strategic omissions. But how could he explain it to her? Did he even want to? Sure, he’d been hyperfocused on his less-than-perfect body, but Elle hadn’t said a word. Ignorance could be bliss, he reasoned, at least until he’d lost the weight. Maybe then he could come clean, once it was all over. 

But he had to actually lose the weight first. Not just keep dicking around. 

“I’m fine.” He assured her, pressing a kiss against her hand. Her expression didn’t shift, and he felt his skin crawl a little. Strategic no-truthing it was then. “I just have a lot on my mind right now. I’m sorry.” 

“If you’re sure.” Elle shrugged, and turned towards the bin, scraping the food away as neatly as possible. Emmett found himself staring at the trash, chest uncomfortably tight. He’d brushed it off as a dislike of seeing food go to waste and tried to carry on with his day. 

Yet the discomfort wouldn’t leave him, and other niggles crept in too. Scraping by for food had been as much a part of growing up as visits to the park, but now he felt hungrier than ever, and angry at himself as a result. This wasn’t the pure poverty of his childhood, he had no right to whine because he was a little bit peckish most mornings before the coffee sunk in. But he was hungry all the same, loud obnoxious hunger that left him no choice but to lock himself in the bathroom and chug water until the growls in his belly were drowned. The gnawing feeling worsened at night, keeping him awake. It was a surprise that the noises didn’t wake Elle, but thankfully, she’d always been a heavy sleeper. He felt foolish then, curled up in bliss with the love of his life, and unable to enjoy it because his body couldn’t keep quiet. Emmett pressed his nose against her freshly-washed hair, and tried to ignore his craving for apples. 

That night, he had his first nightmare. Not that he hadn’t experienced bad dreams before, but since dating Elle, he’d found himself sleeping pretty soundly. Flopping into bed with her after a long day felt like a perfect reward, which had morphed now into an exquisite curse. 

The dream had started normally enough; he was at Harvard, following someone down a corridor. Yet other people kept handing him folders, and any attempt to keep them organised was met with more papers being shoved under his nose. The person in front was getting harder to see through the swarms of people, so Emmett started to jog, then run, then sprint through the halls, manila folders toppling from his arms. The hoard would snigger every time another file dropped, but he forced himself to keep moving. Distantly he was aware of another sound, a clip-clopping of heels behind him. Eventually, he reached the end of the corridor, relief flooding through his chest as he saw an elevator up ahead. Someone was beckoning him forward, face obscured. With every step, the folders felt heavier and moving through the crowd was like wading through treacle, the clip-clops behind him keeping pace with his racing heart. The faces around him blurred and spiralled, but he could still make out their jeering laughter. When he reached the elevator, he realised the person he was following had been Callahan, grinning at him with blood-stained shark teeth. The older man reached out, hands pressing hard against his stomach, and shoved him into the elevator. Winded, Emmett glanced up in time to see Elle being swallowed up by the crowd, Callahan’s grip tight on her elbow, as her shoes dragged against the floor. He tried to scrabble towards her, but the elevator was already moving down, the walls shrinking around him tighter and tighter until – 

“Emmett!” 

Elle was leaning over her him, hands on his shoulders. Though her face was puffy from sleep, her eyes could not have been more alert, blinking down at him. All Emmett could respond with was a few heavy shaky breaths. 

“Where-?” He gasped out eventually.

“We’re home, baby. You had a bad dream.” Elle’s fingers ran through his hair, and Emmett realised his forehead felt sticky with sweat. Apparently, this didn’t deter her, as she massaged gentle circles into his temple. “You were mumbling and then you started to shake. I tried to wake you, but you couldn’t hear me.” She paused, pressing her lips together. In the soft light of the bedside lamp, she looked exhausted. The last thing she needed after long days of law school was him freaking out in his sleep. “Are you OK?” 

“I just-“ The words wouldn’t come, stuck behind the lump in his throat. As if he wasn’t damp enough already, he felt tears beginning to sting at his eyes. He closed them tight. “I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t have to apologise; you couldn’t help it.” She pressed her forehead against his, and Emmett savoured the contact, surprised she wasn’t disgusted. Why was it still so hard to breathe? He was safe with her, in their wonderfully comfy bed in their frankly enormous apartment; what did he have to be frightened of? 

She sensed his continued tension and moved her hands away from his face, and down to his chest, continuing to rub smooth, soothing circles. Emmett didn’t realise how low she was straying until her hand was pressed directly against his stomach. Eyes shooting open, he reached down and snatched her hand away. Both seemed equally startled at his sharpness, Elle frowning and Emmett blinking quickly. Now that the immediate threat had disappeared, he laced his fingers between hers and squeezed. 

“Sorry, I just – I was – “ 

“Part of the dream?” She asked gently, squeezing back. 

“Something like that.” 

He couldn’t bring himself to say anymore, and Elle didn’t ask. Instead, they lay together, staring up at the ceiling, hands clasped tight. 

Neither slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so there's that. 
> 
> Sorry if this chapter is a bit fillery; I've had a lot of schoolwork but I wanted to get something out so this fic doesn't die. Have a bit of the next chapter written, and dw, it gets fluffier soon. 
> 
> Also points for anyone who recognises Emmett's gym kit. The points don't mean anything, but you can have them. Use them to buy a smoothie or something; I'm sure it's currency somewhere.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elle weighs in on the situation.

The first time Elle saw Emmett shirtless, she thought her heart was going to stop. 

It was actually several months into their relationship: they’d confessed their feelings for each other at the end of the Wyndam case, but all too soon, she’d had to fly back to California for the summer. That had been the worst six weeks of her life in all honesty; she and Emmett had skyped almost every night, but couldn’t compare to being together. When he collected her from the airport after her return flight, she’d been so delighted she’d scooped him off the ground, spinning him in circles. It was only when she put him back down, both giddy with laughter, that she stopped to realise how easy he’d been to pick up in the first place. 

Emmett being light shouldn’t have been too much of a surprise. He was hardly the tallest guy, and she had kept up her cheerleading exercise regime even after leaving UCLA. Still, it had been really no effort at all, and when she pulled him into a hug upon arriving home, she fancied his shoulder blades were poking out a little further than she remembered. 

So she decided to keep a closer eye on him, and yet the more she saw, the more worried she became. As the balmy warmth of summer faded into crisp Bostonian fall, he’d taken to piling on more layers than ever. He was never without a hoodie, and rarely without a jacket, and even then, she’d caught him shivering more times than she could count. His bones were growing increasingly prominent; she could feel his ribs and hipbones when they cuddled up on the couch together watching Law and Order, and his wrists seemed tiny and frail when he typed or took her hand in his. 

Yet she allowed herself to push her thoughts away, so long as she couldn’t see anything definitive. She was just used to different body types, she rationalised: most of the boys at UCL had been athletic, and coming from an affluent family, she was used to seeing certain physiques more than others. 

Even when they’d had sex, she hadn’t seen much, though not through lack of trying. Unlike Warner, who loved to brag in the bedroom, Emmett had meekly asked for the lights to be turned down low. Elle had quite liked the experience; they took things slower, mapping out each other through kisses and brushes. With sight gone, the other senses had heightened. He’d gasped so prettily as she leaned in to kiss his throat, savouring the scent of faded cologne that had gathered at his collarbones. It was almost enough to blot out the feeling of how narrow his hips were beneath her thighs. 

The next morning, she’d been more than prepared for round two, but Emmett was not so hasty, pausing to pull on his t-shirt before responding to her kisses with his own. She’d moaned as he’d slipped the soft cotton over his head; as much as she loved Harvard, its logo wasn’t exactly what she wanted to see first thing in the morning. When she tried to lift it off again, he’d frozen beneath her, tugging at the hem. She’d let it go, and turned her attention elsewhere, but the thought persisted. 

Eventually the dam broke – they’d been living together for almost three months at that point, so she was surprised it hadn’t happened sooner. Emmett and Elle were enjoying a rare day off together, and after a lazy morning of cuddles, Emmett had hopped in the shower whilst Elle refilled the coffee pot, settling down on the bed to read the latest Cosmo tips. She was just checking their horoscopes – a productive month for Gemini, more turbulent for Libra, and apparently Bruiser was to avoid salads – when Emmett had emerged from their ensuite, slightly damp and wearing only a towel. 

She’d seductively lowered the magazine and was preparing to whistle, when she stopped, and felt her stomach turn icy cold. 

His ribs were the first thing she noticed. Not only did his ribcage jut out uncomfortably, but she could trace every rib, the morning light doing nothing to soften the shadows. The sharp dip of his waist only highlighted his hipbones, just visible above his towel. When he turned to start rooting through his drawers, she could see the shoulder blades she’d felt so shockingly before. Worst of all, when he bent, she could make out each little divot of his spine. 

“Emmett…” She gasped without meaning to, and he turned to her, eyes wide with concern. She couldn’t pull her eyes away from his middle, and he glanced down and swallowed. Quickly, he readjusted himself so the towel was wrapped higher around his waist. 

“Sorry, I forgot-“ He started to stammer, but quickly gave up, grabbing a bundle of clothes and darting back into the bathroom. Elle blinked, staring at the slammed shut door. 

When the hell had that happened? Hadn’t she been keeping an eye on him? Hadn’t she held him pretty much every day? How could she not have noticed – not have felt – what had happened to the love of her life? Terror closed her throat with its icy fingers: surely this couldn’t have all happened so recently? Yet he hadn’t been that thin when they’d gone suit shopping. Someone would have said something, right? 

Why didn’t anyone say anything? 

She froze upon hearing the door creak back open. Emmett emerged, creeping back into the room without announcing himself, and turning instead to search through his hoodie drawer. Despite the warmth of the room, she could see the goosebumps covering his arms, and that was enough to have her standing. 

“Hey Emmett?” She kept her voice soft, but when he turned, she could already see the pink spots rising on his cheeks. He held a balled-up hoodie close to his middle, trying to disguise the billowing of his t-shirt and the looseness of his jean waistband. He wouldn’t - couldn’t - meet her eye. The confrontation died on her lips. She held up her phone instead. 

“I just found this cute little brunch place on the other side of town; why don’t we go there, instead of eating boring old toast?” He started to speak, but she cut him off, wrapping her arms around his neck. “My treat.” 

She could see the debate bouncing around his brain, and leaned closer, batting her eyelids at him. He softened, and leaned down to kiss her. 

“Why can I never say no to you?”

She grinned and took his hand, leading him out of the apartment. If she wrapped an arm around his waist, well, she was just trying to keep him warm, wasn’t she? 

* 

Brunch, it turned out, was a success so Elle did what she could to introduce more food into Emmett’s life.

Not in a creepy or overly mothering way; he was a grown man and could decide what and when to eat on his own, thank you very much. But just… reminders every now and again. She brought snacks to their study dates and made sure the cupboards were fully stocked with all his favourite treats. She centred more of their dates around mealtimes – brunches and dinners and cute little lunch meetings. When packing her handbag, she always remembered to slip in a granola bar or a packet of raisins, just in case. Suggestions, more than anything else.

Shopping was key to her plan – not just little jaunts around the mall, but proper serious food shopping. Both were unfamiliar with the experience: Elle had spent most of her life being catered, whether by her family’s fleet of chefs and cooks, or in her student accommodation. Emmett, on the other hand, hadn’t been able to afford proper groceries until very recently. Even after securing his TA position, he’d been forced to survive on mostly apples and bread in order to make rent. Shopping together, then, was equal parts game and date: they had far too much fun scoping out all the items and making lists for recipes Emmett’s mother had lovingly emailed in capital letters and layman’s terms, just to ensure they cooked. Elle even had her own little side-quest, namely watching what foods Emmett tried to buy at discounted prices and then substituting them with more reasonable purchases. She didn’t have a problem with sales, but she knew what Emmett was like with food waste, and there was no way he wouldn’t make himself ill on best-before date gambles. Her favourite part of grocery shopping, however, was the obligatory cake and coffee they rewarded themselves with after. She could satisfy her sweet tooth and his caffeine cravings simultaneously, and make sure that he was at least getting some calories. 

Cooking too, was a necessity. Emmett had usually taken control of this part of their relationship; he was quite good at making meals when given access to the right ingredients and equipment, and he seemed to like it a lot. Experimenting with Jewish and vegetarian cuisine was exactly the sort of challenge he enjoyed, and the outcomes were regularly delicious. Still, she knew a busier work life kept Emmett out of the kitchen, and she’d taken to learning as much about cookery as possible. Brooke had been a valuable source of information, as had Emmett’s mom; both had sent over tips and tricks which had helped her build her skillset into something vaguely resembling food. The first time Emmett had come home to find dinner on the table, he’d been pleasantly surprised and had complimented her cooking extensively – maybe a little too much considering how fashionably chargrilled the veggies had turned out. But her later attempts had been much more successful, and even when things had gone awry, they’d giggled about it over takeout, falling asleep full and happy in the warmth of each other’s arms. 

And slowly – achingly slowly, Elle had never been the most patient person, and this was like watching paint dry – Emmett started to fill out. The bones that had so startled her before began to disappear, cushioned now by soft flesh and lean muscle. His face lost its hollow, pinched look, and his shoulders broadened, filling out his corduroy jacket quite nicely. He stood taller, and there was a new bounce in his step; she loved walking next to him. Even his hair looked better, the soft curls thicker and glossier. 

The holidays had rolled around faster than she had expected, but it was almost a universal consensus that the two of them deserved a break. First had been Emmett’s birthday, not that Elle would have known without snooping (well, calling his mom). She hadn’t said a word in the build-up, knowing that a big event would have made him uncomfortable. The look of utter surprise on his face when he woke up to presents and his favourite breakfast was therefore even more delightful. She wasn’t sure he could kiss her anymore passionately than he had when she’d informed him she’d booked them both the day off too. They’d spent most of that day in bed, wrapped up in each other. 

Next came their anniversary, followed up a few days later with Halloween. Though the first had been quite a formal affair – a day of shopping followed by dinner at one of Boston’s fanciest restaurants – she’d actually preferred the latter event; she and Emmett had spent the evening carving pumpkins and welcoming trick-o-treaters, before curling up with The Nightmare Before Christmas and the leftover candy, plus some microwave popcorn Elle had found in the back of the cupboard. 

After that had been Thanksgiving; they’d spent the morning in their pyjamas eating cereal and watching the parade, before heading over to Emmett’s mom’s for a feast neither of them had been expecting. Elaine Forrest had got a new boyfriend who actually seemed decent, and could cook like a Michelin star chef. He’d shaken Emmett’s hand after the meal and invited him to a Red Sox game that weekend; Elle was pretty sure Emmett’s smile could have been seen from space. 

Hanukkah had followed, and this holiday was the most special; they’d never celebrated it as a couple before. Elle was honoured to be invited to all the traditions and festivities. As much as she loved Emmett, she didn’t think she had ever seen him so pretty as when he was lighting the menorah, reciting the blessing with such joy and determination. She’d almost knocked his kippah off kissing him so hard. 

Christmas, therefore, was a quieter affair, not that Elle minded. Her father had often travelled for work when she was growing up, so it hadn’t ever really been that important. Still, that year, her parents had flown in all the way from California to visit, and Emmett had turned the kitchen upside down in his attempts to make something both vaguely traditional and vegetarian. He’d done a wonderful job, impressing her parents both with his cooking and conversation, even securing himself an invitation to the country club the next time he was on the West Coast. Even Warner hadn’t had that honour. 

The last event had been New Year’s, which had technically been the biggest of all. Paulette and Kyle had thrown an enormous party at a nearby bar, and everyone and their dog (quite literally) was invited. The Delta Nus had arrived by party bus, their Harvard friends had snuck out of their dorms, and even Brooke had bought her fitness posse, getting everyone up on the dancefloor. Elle and Emmett had been forced to sneak up the fire escape for their midnight kiss. As the new year chimed in, and she snuck her arms around his waist to watch the fireworks shine out over the city, Elle first began to notice a little bit of softness at Emmett’s middle. 

It wasn’t much – not much at all, considering how much they’d been indulging recently. Yes, he’d gone through jeans and shirts surprisingly quickly in the last few months, but that was more the result of general wear and tear, rather than outsizing. He was also trying out new cuts of clothes; skinnier fits that showed off his figure rather than hiding it. She loved that Emmett had curves – if his butt had been cute enough to win legal cases back before they were together, now she was pretty sure it could win a presidential election. Yes, his thighs had thickened and softened, but that only made them more fun to kiss and bite. And yes, maybe he did have a little bit of a tummy these days, but it was adorable. She loved to rest her head against it when she was thinking, or wrap her arms around it when Emmett was cooking. She thought Emmett had liked it too – at least, he didn’t seem to care. 

That had all changed a few weeks ago, and much faster than Elle had expected. Almost overnight, Emmett had withdrawn into himself, shy where he’d never been before. At first, she’d assumed it was work; he’d always pushed himself to impress, and with his caseload, she could understand why making it home in time for dinner every night was a bit unrealistic. 

But then he’d started going to the gym, which completely baffled her. Emmett had never shown interest in any sport aside from baseball, and then only as a spectator. When he’d mentioned it was a work activity, she’d been sceptical, but passed it off as trying to fit in. Not that her Emmett had ever cared about not fitting in, but that was none of her business. It was only when the frequency of his trips increased that she started to seriously doubt him. 

Worst of all though is the way they’d drifted apart physically. Gone were the easy cuddles and casual kisses, replaced by flinches and quick darts away. On the rare occasions they did go to bed together, Emmett scrunched himself up small on the far end of the bed, feigning sleep until she drifted off. More than once, she’d woken up in the middle of the night to find herself cold and alone; Emmett would have snuck back to his desk to work and had fallen asleep there. All she could do was wrap a blanket around his shoulders and make sure his neck wouldn’t crick. 

For one dark day, she wondered if he was having an affair. It would certainly explain his behaviour; the distance, the strange work hours, the awkward silence between them. But that evening, she’d attempted to kiss him, and he’d responded with all the same softness as before; it was like he’d forgotten to be nervous. Later that week, a girl had been very obviously flirting with Emmett at the grocery store and he’d been oblivious – either he was a better actor than she gave him credit for, or lust was not the motive. 

She wondered then if he might have been overworked. Well, more overworked – he was always overworked and even seemed to thrive on it a little, but this was different. It was probably useful that he was going to the gym so often, as he was starting to carry his own weight in paperwork. His bag – his poor abused bag, which had been having a hard time holding it together even before this all started – was stuffed to the brim and ready to snap. He’d also taken to forgetting it all the time; she’d brought it to his office at least twice in the last week, and watched the relief trickle over his face. Less delight had been extended to the little brown paper bag of lunch she’d also added. The only acknowledgement that had gotten was a slight nod, and a placement on the top of his filing cabinet, next to a browning plant. She’d tried not to think too hard about it; Emmett wasn’t exactly a big eater, especially when he was wrapped up with work. 

Which is why the whole gym thing confused her so much. Hadn’t Emmett told her all those years ago that he simply didn’t have time for staying in shape? Surely if he was so overloaded with casework, he’d be spending more time at the office, rather than at a leisure centre? He’d even stopped her going with him, altering his schedule as to make it impossible for them both to attend classes. Yes, perhaps he was desperately trying to squeeze workouts in around a hectic timetable, but if he was really so busy, why bother? He didn’t seem to enjoy the experience very much, and it wasn’t like he was training for any event, or medically obligated to go. 

No, more was going on than he was willing to admit, and Elle Woods was determined to find out the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hope you enjoyed it! This wasn't exactly the chapter I intended to write, but I liked the diversion, and Elle's perspective allowed me to open up the story to new areas! 
> 
> The next chapter is where some of the real drama is going to occur, so stay tuned! 
> 
> Leave a comment if you'd like; I'd really appreciate any insight, and to know whether the new perspective works out, or just makes things confusing. 
> 
> Hope you all have a brilliant day, and make sure to look after yourselves! <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emmett reaches his breaking point. 
> 
> Also quick warning: this is the darkest chapter so far so be careful if you're sensitive to negative self talk/self image, vomiting, overexercising or injury. Take care of yourselves, lovelies <3

_EMMETT ___

__Emmett woke up not to the screeching of his alarm clock for once, but instead to the morning sunlight stabbing into his eyes. He groaned, and tried to turn over, but froze after a second._ _

__Sunlight._ _

__Morning._ _

__Aka not 4am – the time he’d been forcing himself up in order to be able to fit in his first workout before heading to the office._ _

__“Fuck!”_ _

__“Em? Wha’s wro-“ Elle groaned, her hair flying everywhere as she opened one dull eye. Emmett barely looked at her, trying to sit up. As he did so, all his sleepiness faded and every inch of his body ached. His stomach spasmed, forcing out a gasp of pain. He’d been working on his core the previous day, and his muscles still hadn’t forgiven him. Growling, he tried to fight against it._ _

__“I’m late. I’m fucking late, and I’m so fucking fucked I-“ He groaned, rolling himself into a sitting position as he tried to breathe through the cramping._ _

__“Hey!” Elle cried, as she narrowly avoided a flailing elbow. Her arms tightened around his waist. “Breathe, baby.”_ _

__“I don’t have tim- get off me!” He pushed her hands away as they slid ominously close to his waistband. They both blinked, shocked by his roughness._ _

__“Em?” Elle’s confused voice rang through the silent room. Emmett had only ever heard her so dejected once before, the very first time they’d met. Elle had just been thrown from Callahan’s class, confused and lonely. Yet somehow, she’d managed to jut out her chin and send him a smile on her way out. There was nothing of that cheeriness now, as she sat swaddled in their blankets. Only the loss._ _

__“I have to go.” Emmett tried to keep the shame from cracking his voice as he stood on trembling legs, and headed for the wardrobe. Behind him, he heard a flurry of blankets and then her feet stomping out of the bedroom, dragging the quilt behind her. Emmett sighed, and pawed through his shirts trying to look for something passable to wear._ _

__After the briefest of showers, Emmett dragged himself into the living room, still missing a sock. Elle was nowhere to be seen, and in her place she’d left a little pink post it note, next to an apple and bowl of granola._ _

__“Taken Bruiser out. Have fun at WORK. – E.”_ _

__Her capitalisation confused him, but he ignored it just as swiftly as he ignored the food. It wasn’t like he deserved it anyway – his pants were already struggling to stay up, no doubt being pushed down by a thick roll at his stomach. Desperately, he grabbed a belt and cinched it around his waist, noticing that at least in that respect he was down another notch. Once he’d assembled the rest of his outfit, only just remembering to scoop up his bag, Emmett darted down into the street below._ _

__As he slipped into the subway station and let himself be whisked away, the only thing Emmett could think about was the suspicious lack of a kiss at the end of Elle’s note._ _

__*_ _

__Emmett only realised something was amiss when he entered the office to find it almost entirely dead. Only Sandra from Accounts lounged about, and even then, all she did was stir her coffee morosely. Emmett watched as she dumped three packets of sugar into the beverage and shuddered. The swiftness of his commute had left him feeling lightheaded, and the thought of so much sweetness only increased his queasiness. He even had to pause as he sat down at his desk, taking a few deep breaths to quieten his rioting stomach._ _

__“Forrest!” A gruff voice interrupted Emmett’s thoughts and he groaned internally. Though Mr Fox was the kindest of the law firm partners, he was the fattest man Emmett had ever met. The thought of his enormous build and bulging stomach made Emmett swallow a little harder than necessary when he met the older man’s eye. “What do you think you’re playing at?”_ _

__“I’m sorry Mister Fox, I know I’m late but I just needed to-“ Emmett began to ramble but a great booming laugh cut him off._ _

__“Late?” Mr Fox chuckled, round belly jiggling as he did so. “It’s Saturday. Your day off.”_ _

__“Saturday.” Emmett gasped, glancing for the first time at his calendar. Under a glowing picture of Elle was the terrible truth, and Emmett resisted the urge to smack his head into the desk at the revelation. That must have been what her note meant._ _

__“Don’t worry about it, son. Happens to the best of us.” Mr Fox twirled his grey moustache with one hand, and slapped his other down onto Emmett’s shoulder. “Why don’t you head home and enjoy your day off?” He paused and frowned, the twinkle dimming in his eyes. “And maybe take tomorrow off too. You look a little… pale.”_ _

__“I’m fine, sir, I promise.” Emmett tried to protest, but Mr Fox shook his head, moving to waddle down the corridor._ _

__“Take the day, Forrest. I’m not often in a giving mood.”_ _

__“Yes sir.” Emmett sighed, and started packing up his things, making sure to swipe a few extra files to take home; his brain was set to work mode, so he knew he should take advantage of such productivity._ _

__“Oh and Forrest?” Mr Fox turned back, and gave him a wide grin, fat cheeks glowing from the effort of walking. “Make sure to grab one of Sandra’s lemon slices on the way out. They’re to die for.”_ _

__Emmett nodded, and swiftly exited the office, only just making it to the bathroom before he was sick._ _

__At least the air was cleaner when he stepped outside, no lingering stenches of coffee and powdered sugar. The breeze felt nice on his sweaty face, which refused to dry out no matter how many times he swiped it with his hand. Still, he felt a chill despite the sun, and folded himself up tightly as he headed home. A nice brisk walk would make him feel better, and would help him burn off those tricksy calories he’d ingested just by looking at Sandra’s home baking._ _

__As he turned down a long street, Emmett smiled despite the trembles still running through him._ _

__At least this way he’d still have time for a workout._ _

__*_ _

__“How was work?” Elle asked, smiling smugly as she set down two brown paper bags a few hours later. Emmett looked up from his notes. How could she look so fresh and pretty in this sort of weather? Another degree of heat, and he was fairly sure he’d melt into a puddle. Instead of making him feel better, his long walk had triggered a feverishness in him that no amount of cool water seemed to soothe. He’d stripped down to his shirtsleeves, but that had done little to ease the sleepiness that threatened to overcome him. In his desperation, he’d even allowed himself to indulge in a Redbull, but it sat uncomfortably in his stomach, all sticky and fizzing. Still, he had work to focus on, having spread the files all over the table. He didn’t have time to feel unwell._ _

__“You could have told me what day it was.” He pouted and she turned to him, arching an eyebrow._ _

__“You could have not been a stubborn ass.” She started to unpack the groceries but paused, setting her hands on her hips. “What are you wearing?”_ _

__“Work clothes.” Emmett rolled his eyes; Elle was always nagging him to change and ‘not carry work around more than necessary’. But that didn’t seem to be her concern, as she picked up the jacket he’d slung over the kitchen island._ _

__“This is the suit I bought you. The first suit.”_ _

__“Is it?” Emmett glanced down, finally noticing the jaunty blue. God, this hadn’t been his plan at all. He’d intended to surprise her with that reveal, all sleek lines and toned abs, not practically bursting out of the damn thing. No wonder Elle was frowning at him._ _

__“You can still fit in this thing?” Elle sounded shocked and Emmett cringed. Did he really look that awful? He started to glance down at himself when a sudden crash from his desk made him jump. Rufus had somehow leapt up onto his work surface, spilling a pot of ink all over a few important files. Emmett swore and raced over, resisting the urge to throw Bruiser onto the floor. Instead, he gently placed the dog on the chair and groaned. There was muck and slobber all over the Uranowitz file – he’d spent weeks piecing that together. Rufus seemed unfussed, trotting over to the couch, no doubt to sabotage the rest of Emmett’s work._ _

__“Why is there a bulldog in our apartment?” Emmett asked through gritted teeth. Elle popped her head around the fridge door and frowned._ _

__“Rufus is staying with us for the next couple of weeks while Paulette visits Kyle’s family – remember? You were there when we arranged it.”_ _

__“Guess I’ll be reprinting these then.” He sighed, holding up the ruined papers. “Not like they were important or anything.”_ _

__“Are you going to sulk all day?” Elle closed the fridge door and stood, hands on her hips. “I don’t know what I’ve done-“_ _

__“This isn’t about you.” Emmett snapped._ _

__“That much is obvious.” There was a sadness to her tone that made Emmett’s stomach bubble with guilt. Knowing he was going to get no further work done, he scooped up the second-best solution; his prepacked sports bag sat by the door. He grabbed it, and stalked over to the bedroom to change. Elle’s eyes followed him, and her frown deepened._ _

__“Where are you going?”_ _

__“Gym.”_ _

__“Again?” Elle asked gently, drifting towards him. “Em, it’s a Saturday; can’t you take a day off?”_ _

__“I’ve got to go. Be back in 2 hours.”_ _

__“Stay.” Elle pulled him close, and rested her head against his chest. Emmett tensed, and tried to calm his racing heart. “Come on a dogwalk with me, if you’re desperate to get out of the house. Or we could get dinner-“ She saw the refusal in his eyes and clung tighter. “At least give me a kiss.” Elle tugged his collar gently, and tilted his jaw down. Emmett prayed she didn’t feel the pudge of his double chin. At least she wasn’t looking at it – instead her eyes were fixed on his. “Please.”_ _

__The kiss was soft, more chaste than anything they had shared in weeks. With her lips pressed against his, Emmett felt the tightness in his chest waver. Despite her small size, she was like an anchor in a storming sea and he wanted to cling onto her and let the waves crash over him._ _

__But he knew in his heart the only way to survive was to swim, and so he unlatched her arms and kissed her hands, before moving away._ _

__"I've got to go. See you in a bit."_ _

__*_ _

___ELLE ____ _

____If a year ago you had told Elle Woods she’d be stalking through the streets of Boston trying to pursue a man in a Transformers t-shirt she would have laughed you out of the room._ _ _ _

____But it was the truth, and even more shockingly, she adored him for it. The butterflies that fluttered in the pit of her stomach every time Emmett smiled could not be denied, and she knew he felt the same way. At least, usually he did. Perhaps it had been a bit cruel not to tell him it was the weekend after such a horrid night’s sleep, but if he’d only stopped to listen, she would have let him know. But that didn’t even seem to be the main cause of his grumpiness. Yes, Emmett had always had a tendency for grouchiness, but if there was one thing he loved more than law, it was dogs. His temper towards Rufus was unheard of, and Elle was determined to get to the bottom of it._ _ _ _

____So she’d followed him._ _ _ _

____It wasn’t pretty and it wasn’t cute, but Elle hated not knowing the answers. She’d followed Warner all the way to Boston; she was pretty sure she could follow Emmett to the gym. She made sure not to wear anything pink, or too recognisable – Paulette’s purple and leopard print tracksuit had been perfect, if a little baggy. She’d tied her distinct hair up in a scarf, and hid her eyes behind enormous sunglasses. She just stopped short of buying a newspaper and cutting eyeholes out of the front page. Still, she followed him as discreetly as she could. Making sure he never saw her wasn’t easy, but eventually they made it to the gym, façade intact._ _ _ _

____He’d checked in normally enough. Polite to the receptionist but no flirting; he barely even looked at her. He was already in his gym kit, so there was no need to change, and when they entered the main hall, she could see it was pretty much deserted aside from a student snoozing on one of the exercise bikes. As Emmett warmed up with a few stretches, Elle picked up a pair of boxing gloves someone had abandoned on the side. She slipped them over her hands, wincing at the scratch of her nails against the sweaty fabric. Still, the enormous punching bag was enough for her to hide behind, peeking out occasionally to keep track of her partner. Whenever he even twitched in her direction, she ducked behind her punching bag and counted to ten._ _ _ _

____The only real pause Emmett took was to fix his laces, pulling hard on them in a way that made Elle wince. There was something carefully blank about his face that she didn’t recognise, only flickering when he walked past an enormous mirror. No-one else noticed when he stopped in front of it, but Elle watched on, shocked at the sadness that crept onto his face._ _ _ _

____Tension had been building in his shoulders all morning – she’d felt it as she’d kissed him goodbye – but it all faded away as his posture sagged. He touched his cheek, tracing the line of his jaw with a frown, before pulling his hand away. He instead started to pinch and poke at his stomach, glancing around occasionally to make sure he wasn’t being watched. He tugged at his shirt, at his shorts, and Elle felt her heart break with every little fidget: she’d never seen him so uncomfortable before._ _ _ _

____Eventually, he allowed himself to break away from the mirror, and instead moved towards the treadmill like he was being drawn by a magnet. All his sadness shifted into a fierceness, as he stabbed at the buttons. As the machine whirred to life, Elle realised he hadn’t warmed up, and didn’t seem to be letting himself ease into exercise with a light jog; within minutes he was running full pelt, breathing hard through his nose. She watched, horrified, as he only upped the speed, his pale face turning redder and redder._ _ _ _

____That was, until it didn’t. Elle noticed Emmett bracing himself against the machine’s armrests but his face was slowly draining of colour as his eyes widened, before rolling back into his head. He froze, but the treadmill kept moving and -_ _ _ _

____THUD._ _ _ _

____“Emmett!” Elle cried, her trainers slapping on the polished floor as she raced towards him. He was curled up, eyes screwed shut, hissing in pain. When she tried to reach for his hand, he jerked it away fiercely, clutching it to his chest._ _ _ _

____“Elle? What are you-“ Emmett whimpered, his other hand dropping away. As she looked closer, Elle felt her stomach sink. She was pretty sure wrists weren’t meant to bend that way._ _ _ _

____“Oh you silly boy.” She wept as she stroked a hand down his cheek. “What have you done?”_ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Victor Frankenstein voice* It's alive!!! 
> 
> Seriously, I'm so sorry for the enormous wait - I got snowed under with exams, and moving back home from uni, as well as getting distracted by other muses (plug plug for my other fic Father With Children for any Falsettos fans reading!). Had a few technical issues with this chapter too - managed to write the whole thing in the present tense initially and then delete all my editting. It was also originally part of the next chapter, which is 95% written, but I felt like it made more sense to chop them into two! 
> 
> Next chapter coming soon (for real this time) and thank you all for your patience and continued support! Please let me know if you liked this, and have an awesome day/night!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The breaking point is reached.

_ELLE_

Going to the ER had been nightmarish. Emmett had been very quiet the whole visit, clutching his arm tightly. With the warm summer weather, more people had been reporting to the hospital with sunstroke, so the wait was agonisingly long. It was so gruelling that Emmett had caved and asked her for a snack from the nearby vending machine. She’d gladly agreed, getting a range of goodies. He’d selected the dried fruit, and only ate half of them, each bite more reluctant than the last. She didn’t miss his guilty glances at her bag of chips, but he always looked away before she could offer him any. 

He was even more stubborn with the doctor, barely speaking beyond the necessary questions about how he’d fallen. His arm had been quickly bound up, which pleased him, but he grew surly at the follow up questions. He refused to admit he’d fainted, instead arguing he’d tripped over his laces. When Elle brought up his recent troubles sleeping and eating, he’d scowled at her and denied them. The doctor, however, did not seem fooled. After a few more questions, Emmett had eventually admitted to feeling stressed, but refused to elaborate. The doctor had sighed, and consulted her chart. 

“It’s been a few years since your last physical, Mr Forrest, and I’d like to update some of your information. If you’d just like to get up on the scale-“ 

“What?” Elle had expected him to fight, but she didn’t plan on him sounding so worried about it. “No – look, I-I need to go home. I have stuff to do and-“ 

“It’ll only take a second, Mr Forrest. It’s hospital procedure.”

“I bet it’s not.” Emmett grumbled, and Elle nudged him in the ribs. It wasn’t like him to be so rude, even if his arm was hurting. 

“Look, if you don’t want to get weighed, just tell her what the number is.” Emmett blinked at her, confused, and Elle shrugged sheepishly. “I know you know it – you weigh yourself all the time, baby.” 

“All the time?” The doctor asked, arching an eyebrow and scribbling something on her chart. Elle watched Emmett pale at the gesture, half reaching out for the pen, before stopping him.

“She’s exaggerating.” He laughed uncomfortably, and ducked his head so that his fringe fell into his eyes. Usually, when he was feeling tense, Elle knew he tended to fiddle with his watch strap, but all that caused was a wince as his wrist jarred. “But yes, I keep on top of it.”

“So tell her.” Elle went to slip an arm around his waist, but he straightened up before she could hold him. He kept his face blank, facing forward. His other hand tapped an uneven rhythm on the table, and he kept glancing towards the door. The doctor set her hands on her hips, waiting. 

“Can… can I speak to you alone?” Emmett eventually stammered out, swallowing hard. Elle felt as though she’d been kicked in the ribs. She knew Emmett had been growing more private, but she’d never expected him to explicitly hide something from her. Especially something this important. 

Elle was on her feet and out of the room before the doctor could ask her. She was halfway down the corridor before she froze, and turned back. No, no matter what, the love of her life was sat in that room, mouth twisted from pain, and she wasn’t going to leave him. 

Instead she paced, five steps down the corridor, five steps up. A few people gave her sympathetic smiles as they passed and she tried to return them, but her heart was hammering too hard to put any real effort in. 

Was Emmett sick? He’d never mentioned having any reoccurring illnesses, but he’d also never had the best sleep schedule and god, he’d been so so thin when they’d met. He’d had more than his fair share of colds over the time she’d known him, but he’d never been disastrously sick, and she’d never known him to faint before. For the majority of their time together, he’d had a surprising amount of energy considering how rarely he rested; he was bouncy and determined, full of good humour and that nervous charm that made her knees go weak. 

Yet she’d be a fool if she tried to deny how much of that brightness had faded from him; he was grumpier than she’d ever known him, and always seemed on the edge of queasiness at meal times. His headaches, a familiar but not constant problem, had been getting much worse. His forgetfulness too; he’d switched from being hyperaware of his routine and possessions to being neglectful of both. He left jackets, bags and lunches; he forgot meetings, dates and arrangements. Elle paused, and leaned against a nearby wall, cupping her hand over her mouth as she tried to hold in a sob. It felt like he was slipping away from her, bit by bit. 

Was it a more recent illness then? Was it something she had done? Her thoughts continued to race but before she could address them, the consulting room door opened and Emmett stood there, looking exhausted. Elle just about managed to wipe her eyes by the time he looked up at her. 

“What did she say?” 

“Fine, fine. All fine.” He gave a little half shrug and held up a scrap of paper in his hand. “Gave me a prescription for my painkillers – god knows what that’ll cost – and sent me on my way.” 

“Why wouldn’t you-“ 

“I want to go home, Elle.” Elle had expected him to snap again, but instead his voice shook. He ran his hand over his eyes, and sighed. “Please.”

“Okay.” She whispered back, and they started to walk. Emmett’s steps were slow and clumsy, and she found herself supporting him more and more as they got closer to the car. Judging by the glazed look in his eye, his painkillers must have been really kicking in. 

As they crossed the last little bit of the parking lot, Elle couldn’t help but brush her hand against his cast. The material was rough against her palm but he didn’t wince as she closed her fingers around his. Instead he looked down at their clasped hands, and for the first time in days, laughed. 

“Hey look, Elle.” His smile was soft and sad as he stretched their clasped hands out in front of them. What parts of his arm were uncovered were ice white and wasted thin, but he didn’t seem to be looking at that, instead staring at the rose sleeve of her jacket. Elle frowned at him, and looked down, before laughing too. She hadn’t even noticed the colour cast he’d been given, but sure enough his arm was encased in hot pink. “We match.” 

“Of course we do.” She smiled at him, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. His eyes were getting droopier and she knew she didn’t have much time to get him into the car. “We go together, you and me. Always.” 

***

Upon arriving home, Elle strategically placed (i.e. accidentally dropped but he was too dozy to complain) Emmett onto the sofa and headed straight to the kitchen.  
Though she felt guilty about it, all she could think of in that moment was dinner. After being unceremoniously tossed out of bed by Emmett that morning, she’d had a brief breakfast with Bruiser at their local vegan café before collecting groceries, and unfortunately one flaxseed muffin wasn’t enough to satisfy her all day. Especially not one as stressful as her day had been. Had it really only been that morning that Emmett had stormed out to work, only to return sheepishly an hour later? Had it been only a few hours since he’d tumbled into her arms, terrifyingly limp and light. 

Shaking her head, Elle prepared herself a small salad, her appetite a little wilted. She wondered if she should offer Emmett anything, but the doctor had warned the medication could make him nauseous, and she didn’t want to push it. Still, she figured she better ask. She paused to listen for him, expecting to hear the drone of the news or even light snoring – Emmett had barely been able to stand when she’d brought him home and she wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d fallen straight asleep. 

What she hadn’t anticipated was bouncy pop music and a perky California accent. 

“Hi, I’m Brooke Wyndam, and welcome to the Wyndam Workout Disk Two Challenge and our daily commitment to being the best that we can be!” Truly, Elle loved Brooke like a sister, but her voice was the last thing she needed to hear right now. She wondered how her DVD had even come on – she’d barely used her copy since she and Emmett had moved in together. Perhaps it had been stuck in the DVD player and Emmett had rolled on the remote, activating it somehow. Drying her hands, she stuck her head around the doorframe. 

With a gasp, she dropped her dishtowel. 

Emmett was on his feet, skipping rope in hand and watching attentively, following Brooke’s stretches. She didn’t even know where he’d found such a rope; she didn’t have one and certainly not in reach of the couch. Had he stashed it underneath? But she was distracted from the equipment when she took in his posture. She could tell he was trying to stand up straight, but his shoulders were slumped as if they weighed a ton each. When he stretched out his arms, she could see he was trembling hard, little shivers that ran through his whole body. Even though he hadn’t started the workout, he was covered in sweat, soaking through his t-shirt and making his hair lank and sticky. What was scariest was the reflection of his face in the TV screen; pale, determined and twisted with pain. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Elle!” Emmett tried to turn but the skipping rope twisted itself around his ankles and sent him tumbling to the floor. His arms flailed as he fell, only this time his left wrist crumpled before it could take any weight, and he instead slammed down, smacking his head against the floor. He hissed as he pulled his arm to his chest, rocking slightly in pain. Elle was kneeling over him in seconds, brushing the hair out of his eyes and trying not to panic. 

“Babe, are you OK? Where does it hurt? Do I need to take you back to the ER?” 

“I’m… fine…” Emmett choked out as he stretched his arm out, wincing. A quick swipe of his hand through the back of his hair showed no signs of blood, though he looked a little dazed. When he managed to successfully wiggle his fingers, she helped to sit him up. 

“What were you thinking?” She cried, glancing between at the television, where Brooke was still bouncing along merrily. “You’re supposed to be resting! No strenuous exercise for at least a week, that’s what the doctor said.” 

“I was just-“

“What has gotten into you?” Her cheeks suddenly felt very hot, and she didn’t realise she was crying until the tears dribbled onto his cast. “You were never like this when we met. You told me you didn’t care about your appearance, but these last few months it’s all you’ve think about. You’ve been obsessed.” She paused, and took a deep breath. “Em, baby, talk to me. I’m worried about you.”

Elle expected another witty retort, or blasé remark, or even for Emmett to shout back at her, his seemingly endless patience crumbling away. 

What she hadn’t planned for was a shuddering breath, and tears spilling down his face. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Emmett I-“ 

“I’m so sorry Elle. I never meant to worry you, or hide anything from you but… there wasn’t any other way. I thought if I managed to lose it all before we went on vacation, you wouldn’t notice but-“ 

“Wait, what?” Elle froze, and watched him curl in on himself, hugging his knees. “Lose what?” 

“I just need some more time, okay? I’ll double my workouts, I’ll halve my calories, I’ll-“ He reached out and grabbed her hand, the rough plaster brushing against her fingertips. “Just – just don’t leave me, okay?” 

“Why would I- Emmett?” For a moment, all she could hear was the thudding of her own heart. “Have you been trying to lose weight… for me?” Emmett didn’t meet her eye, but nodded. “Why?” 

“I couldn’t bear to embarrass you any longer.” Before she could explain, he rested his chin on his folded arms and began to talk. Once he’d started, he didn’t seem able to stop, the words tumbling over his lips and getting faster and faster. 

“When we met, I was thin enough that we at least sort of worked. Yeah, I wasn’t exactly attractive, and nowhere close to the likes of Warner, but at least I wasn’t a walking tub of lard. But then I kept getting bigger and-“ He adjusted himself, sitting crosslegged with his arms wrapped tightly around his middle. “I know what people say – what they think – when they see us together. How did an angel like her end up with a fatass like him?”

“So I started working out, and it felt good. Well, no – that’s not true. It hurt and I was hungry all the time, and I couldn’t sleep. But you’d smile at me and that would make it all worth it. Those days when we’d hit the gym together were some of the best in my life. You were happy, and I was happy and it would have been fine if I could just lose the fucking weight.” 

“But I didn’t. I just kept getting bigger and bigger. I’ve cut everything out, and tried to up my workouts as much as I can but… there’s not much more I can do, baby.” He squeezed himself hard and winced, though she couldn’t tell whether it was from the tightness or the pain in his arm. “It feels like I’m destined to be fat.” 

“I just… I wanted to look good for you, Elle. Like someone who deserves to be your boyfriend.” He sighed, and fisted a hand into his hair, tugging hard. “I’m sorry, Elle, for all of this. But if you’ll give me the chance, I swear to you, the rest of this will be gone by the end of the month. I’m determined. Can you give me that long?” 

“No.” Her directness surprised them both, and for the first time that conversation, he met her eye. She could see now how tired he looked, the bags under his eyes heavy and dark. “No, I didn’t mean-“ She stammered, then straightened her shoulders. “You don’t need to lose weight, Em.” 

“Look, I don’t need you to sugar coat this for me.” He laughed bitterly at his own joke. “I’m huge, Elle.” 

“No!” She cried out, making him stop again. “No you’re not. For a start, you’re not fat-“ When he rolled his eyes, she grabbed his shoulders. “Let me finish! You’re not fat, you never were and even if you were, I wouldn’t care so long as you were healthy. I love you no matter what, and I want you around for as long as possible.” 

Emmett blinked, but said nothing, face twisted with doubt. Elle sighed, and loosened her hold, slipped her arm around his shoulders and pulling him close to her. 

“Do you remember the first time we studied together?” She could practically hear the cogs in his brain turning, and pressed her lips against his temple. “You walked me home after that horrible party and started throwing my stuff in the trash to get me to focus. Do you know what I thought?”

“Who is this jackass and what does he have against toiletries?” 

“No. Maybe a little. That conditioner was expensive.” She nudged his shoulder and smiled. “No, what I thought was - this guy’s honest. You didn’t buy into my bullshit, or my excuses, or my self-pity. You were the first person to be really, truly honest with me. And I adored you for it.” She paused, and gave him a squeeze. “I adore you still, more even. And that’s why I’m telling you this.” 

“Your body is your body. I love it, because it’s where Emmett lives. But I love it even more when you’re healthy and happy. And you aren’t either of those things right now, baby. Losing thirty pounds in two months isn’t healthy. Skipping meals isn’t healthy. Over-exercising isn’t healthy.” 

“I’m not-“ 

“How many times have you been to the gym this week?” He flinched and stared down at the floor. “And how many times have you taken Bruiser for a walk? And walked to work? And home? And ran around your office like a headless chicken?” 

“I’m not – I’m not sick, Elle. I’m just-“ 

“When we first started dating… you were so skinny it scared me. I knew money was tight, but I didn’t think you were starving.” 

“I wasn’t-“ 

“You looked it.” “I was worried for you, sweetheart. I’d seen girls at Delta Nu get stuck in these cycles, getting thinner and thinner until-“ She stopped, and took a few measured breaths. “I didn’t want that to happen to you. So I kept an eye on you. And yes, you got heavier, because your body needed it. You shouldn’t have ever been that thin, and if that’s the standard you’re trying to hold yourself to, please stop. It’s not healthy.” 

“I-I-“ “I need to lose weight, Elle. I mean, look at this!” He grabbed his stomach hard; Elle was surprised to see he had anything left to grab, but she could see his nails digging in.  
“You’re not telling me Warner has these.” 

“Yes, of course he does; he’s a human being, and pretty much all human beings have stomach rolls when they sit.” He was still clinging on hard, so all she could do was put her hands over his and try not to sob when she felt how hard he was shaking.

“I can’t stop, Elle. I tried – I really did.” He whispered. “But it’s like… there’s this itch in my brain; if I don’t exercise, it gets worse and worse until…”

“Then you need to get some help.” “Em, there’s nothing wrong with needing a bit of support. And you’re not the only person going through this right now. There’s a lot of people who will be willing to help you, if you only ask for it.” She cupped his face in her hands, running a thumb over his cheek. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course.” There was no hesitance there, no double backing or reluctance. Elle wanted to cry; his world was crumbling and the only constant he had left was her. She swore to herself he wouldn’t regret it. 

“Then don’t stop now.” Gently, she pulled him into a kiss, stroking a softer hand through his hair. He relaxed a little and when they broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers as they breathed. How long had it been since they had been so close? With a sigh, Elle played with one of his curls. 

“I know you don’t feel it, and you definitely don’t feel it now, but…” She bent his head and kissed his forehead. “You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, and you always will be. I wouldn’t change one inch of you, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to change for me.” She tilted his face back down and made sure he was looking into her eyes. “And if anyone questions that, then they can go fuck themselves.” 

“Miss Woods, what language!” Emmett just about managed a laugh, and Elle chuckled along with him. God, how long had it been since she last saw him properly smile? She pressed kisses all over his face – on his forehead, his nose, over his eyes. She wished she could make him feel as adored as he deserved. 

“It’s true! What matters here is this. You and me, taking care of one another. And if that makes people stare, well honey, it’s because we look so good together.” 

Emmett sighed, and for a moment, Elle thought he was going to fight again. But instead, he smiled at her, and slipped his unbroken hand into hers, raising it to his lips. 

“Why do you always have to be right?” 

“I’m not – when I’m with you, I just am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there we go! Honestly, this feels like a pretty natural stopping place for this fic, but if there's interest, I do have ideas for a very soft epilogue for these two with a lot of body positivity and love, just to make u for all the angst. Let me know if you'd like to see that! 
> 
> I know I say this a lot, but I'd like to give a big sincere to everyone who has made it this far and has stuck with this fic. It's my longest work to date, and the only multichapter I've completed; I'm ridiculously proud of it, and writing it has been a great joy. Thank you for all your comments, kudos and patience - you've really made me feel valued and welcome! 
> 
> Biggest of shout outs as always to Wendel, Liv, Joanie and of course Elliot, who started it all! 
> 
> Hope you have an awesome night/day and look after yourselves! And thank you one more time for helping a dumb Literature student actually finish a passion project. 
> 
> Lots of love, 
> 
> Holly


	7. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Recovery was hard. Harder than any exam he’d ever studied for, any case he’d ever argued, any argument he’d ever experienced. But Emmett learned to live for the little victories." 
> 
> In which Emmett gets the help he needs.

Recovery was hard. Harder than any exam he’d ever studied for, any case he’d ever argued, any argument he’d ever experienced. But Emmett learned to live for the little victories. 

Like the first time he managed to step outside in just a t-shirt, not needing to bundle up in jackets and jumpers to keep the cold from seeping into his bones. Or the time he got halfway through a meal without counting calories. Or when he finally remembered what chocolate tasted like beyond guilt and grease.

But there were bad days too, more than he’d like to admit. They’d missed Enid’s birthday once because his jeans wouldn’t button, and that meant an evening locked in the bathroom, Elle singing at him through the door to calm him down. He’d had to stop using his scales because he’d thrown them at the wall, the screen smashing to pieces. There was the first, last and only time he’d made himself sick. 

He’d talked to a psychiatrist after that last one, and kept going for a long time afterwards. Doctor Weisenbachfeld was a nice enough guy, who only made him talk about his father sometimes, and who didn’t bill him that time he’d fallen asleep mid-session. 

But therapy wasn’t the only part of his recovery, far from it. Working out with Elle managed to scratch the uncomfortable itch in his brain for constant, constant exercise. Together, they’d decided to stay away from gyms; the machines and their deceptive trackers were too much for Emmett to bear. Instead, she coaxed him firmly out of his comfort circle and into hers, full of brightly coloured dance workshops, and yoga classes that left him surprisingly sore considering he’d spent nearly the entire time sat down. Emmett had even taken a few personal coaching classes with Brooke; she’d liked his determination, and gave him tips on his form, as well as an abundant workout plan that was flexible enough for his hectic lifestyle and varied enough to keep him interested. When the summer rolled around, Elle had even managed to talk him into swimming lessons, and didn’t laugh when his tummy, slowly rounding out as the weeks progressed, began peeking over the waistband of his shorts. Instead, she’d started a tradition of smoothies afterwards, to celebrate a good workout. Elle got him seeing all the vitamins and proteins rather than the sugar. 

They also restarted cooking together, which was somehow the hardest and easiest part. With Elle in charge, they’d burnt more than they’d salvaged but they had learnt and laughed along the way. A few weeks into the experience, Emmett had called his mom, asking for a few more old recipes from his childhood. Her response had been abundant, several emails chock full of tips and tricks, and even a grocery gift card in the mail once. Brooke had been helpful here too – she’d crafted him an incredible meal plan that introduced all sorts of delicious dishes into his diet, without overloading his bank balance. But spending time in the kitchen with Elle was by far his favourite part. It felt nice having her arms around his waist as he’d panfried veggies or scrambled eggs. He even liked kissing icing sugar away from her cheeks. 

It was just the eating part that he struggled with. Some meals were fine, others were a disgusting slog that left him sweating and shaking with the effort. Luckily, Elle would always be by his side, and would always offer him cuddles on the couch after, with extra tummy rubs when his stomach ached. His stomach ached a lot. 

Still, he kept going, and eventually, he felt a loosening. Initially, he thought it was just his clothes – he’d had to buy a few bigger sizes and had forgone certain items entirely. His suit – that beautiful, blasted suit that had started all this – had been vacuum packed and hidden away when it had stopped fitting; it was too sentimental to donate, but too triggering to keep visible. In its place stood new suits – new shirts and pants and jackets that actually fitted his body, rather than swamping or squeezing it. 

The only thing he still didn’t own was a summer wardrobe, and a week before they were due to set off for vacation, Elle had eagerly dragged him to the mall for an “early birthday” shopping spree. She had modelled several breath-taking outfits, as well as purchasing a few items she wouldn’t show him (“save something for the villa”, she’d teased), and it was now his turn. He paused in the changing room, tugging shyly at the linen suit Elle had picked. 

“Y’know, this isn’t really a birthday present.” He called out to her, turning to the side and trying to ignore the pooch of his tummy. The suit was doing him some favours in that respect, but it still felt odd seeing a bump there, rather than a dip. His thighs had widened too, he noticed. 

“What isn’t?” Elle sounded distracted, but she was probably on her phone; he had been before she had swanned out and stolen every bit of his attention. Surely she hadn’t prodded and pinched herself before stepping out in that amazing sky blue beach dress. 

“You buying me clothes. How is that a birthday present?” 

“It combines my two favourite things: you and shopping.” Emmett could hear the smile in her voice, and a shuffling as she moved closer. “Or at least it would, if you’d let me see what you look like.” 

“Hey, no peeking!” He turned in time to see a perfectly manicured hand sneaking through the changing room curtain and he gave it a light tap. “Pervert.” 

“Only for you.” She laughed, but it was cut short. The hand grabbed the curtain, knuckles whitening. “Seriously, Em, you’ve been in there for fifteen minutes. Are you OK?” 

“Yeah, I’m just-“ Emmett let his voice trail away and glanced at his reflection, before resting a hand on his belly. Despite all their efforts working out together, any semblance of slimness he’d had before had long since vanished. The more he looked, the more he saw. The waist was far too tight, his arms had fattened up, his butt was all blobby and - 

“That’s it, I’m coming in!” Emmett tried to hold back the curtain but Elle barged in efficiently. Their eyes met in the changing room reflection. “Oh.” 

“Yeah.” Emmett sighed, tracing her face for the doubt he knew he’d find there. But instead her expression stayed shocked. 

“Em, you look… amazing!” 

“What?” Emmett frowned, and looked back at himself. Did she need an eye test? Nothing about his appearance was amazing. 

“I love it.” Her face broke out into a bright grin and she waggled a finger in the air. “Give me a twirl.” He shuffled awkwardly in a circle but she clapped her hands giddily. “Em, it’s perfect.” 

“You don’t think it’s a bit-“ 

“A bit what?” She cocked her head to one side. 

“Tight.” 

“Not at all. It fits you really nicely. Good length on the torso and – stand up straight – perfect at the shoulders.” 

“I wasn’t talking about my shoulders.” He whispered. At the admission, it felt like all the sound had been sucked from the room. The gentle bustle of the department store faded, the buzz of the lights quietened until all he could hear was their breathing. Elle, still confused, let her eyes drift down to his hand, which was pinching at his hip. 

Emmett wasn’t sure quite what he expected to happen next, but what he hadn’t anticipated was Elle’s hand resting on his own. Taking advantage of his surprise, Elle slipped her fingers into his and locked them tight, raising their clasped hands to her lips and kissing gently. 

“I am so proud of you.” She mumbled against his hand, kissing it once more before letting it drop, still held tight in her own. “I am so proud of you for all you’ve achieved so far, and all you will achieve. And I can only hope that one day, you see yourself as I see you, and you are overcome with how lovely you are. But until then, and hopefully after, I’ll be right here, telling you just how gorgeous you are. Inside and out.” 

“Even chubby?” He half-joked, smiling sheepishly. Elle didn’t give in to his self-deprecation, instead pulling him into a deep kiss. When they broke apart, she traced his cheek with her thumb and smiled so softly that Emmett felt something in him flutter. 

Maybe… maybe he wasn’t so awful-looking after all. He couldn’t be, not with her smiling at him like that. 

Emmett knew his confidence issues were far from over, but with his hand tucked securely in Elle’s, and a bag of newly purchased, well fitting clothes swinging between them, he felt happier than he’d ever thought possible. 

And if that meant a few extra pounds, well… he could learn to love that too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it - the epilogue to this fic, and the end of this particular story. 
> 
> I hope you all had at least half the fun reading it as I did writing it. As I've mentioned before, this is my first completed fic, and the longest piece of fiction I've written. It's the piece I'm proudest of, not necessarily because it's my best, but because it's finished. Completion, rather than perfection, or whatever that phrase is. 
> 
> That being said, I might go through this at some point to do some superficial editting. This was written over a period of months so no doubt there are some strange typos or phrases I can work on. 
> 
> Mainly, I just wanted to say thank you once more to everyone who has kept up with this story, through the months of silence. I'll definitely be writing more in this fandom, and maybe more in this AU if anyone is interested but I have no definite ideas as of yet. 
> 
> If any of you don't already know, I'm on tumblr as sandfordsmostwanted and I'd be so down to discuss this and any other Legally Blonde content! 
> 
> If any of you like Falsettos, keep an eye on my other WIP Father With Children which will be my next project! 
> 
> Thank you one more time to everyone, and especially my beta readers, who know who they are! And for one last time (on this fic), have an awesome day/night and look after yourself! 
> 
> With love, 
> 
> Holly x

**Author's Note:**

> I'm hoping to get the next part of this written by the end of the month, but with deadlines, who knows? 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this, and look after yourselves!


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